The Hidden Children, Robert W. Chambers [e book reader free .txt] 📗

at the postern; then Boyd and I continued on to my bush-hut, the Indians following.

Muffled drums of a regiment were passing, and an escort with reversed arms, to bury poor Kimball, Captain in Colonel Cilly's command, shot this morning through the heart by the accidental discharge of a musket in the careless hands of one of his own men.

We stood at salute while the slow cortege passed.

Said Boyd thoughtfully:

"Well, Kimball's done with all earthly worries. There are those who might envy him."

"You are not one," I said bluntly.

"I? No. I have not yet played hard enough in the jolly blind man's buff—which others call the game of life. I wear the bandage still, and still my hands clutch at the empty air, and in my ears the world's sweet laughter rings——" He smiled, then shrugged. "The charm of Fortune's bag is not what you pull from it, but what remains within."

"Boyd," I said abruptly. "Who is that handsome wench that followed us from Otsego?"

"Dolly Glenn?"

"That is her name."

"Lord, how she pesters me!" he said fretfully. "I chanced upon her at the Middle Fort one evening—down by the river. And what are our wenches coming to," he exclaimed impatiently, "that a kiss on a summer's night should mean to them more than a kiss on a night in summer!"

"She is a laundress, is she not?"

"How do I know? A tailoress, too, I believe, for she has patched and mended for me; and she madded me because she would take no pay. There are times," he added, "when sentiment is inconvenient——"

"Poor thing," I said.

"My God, why? When I slipped my arm around her she put up her face to be kissed. It was give and take, and no harm done—and the moon a-laughing at us both. And why the devil she should look at me reproachfully is more than I can comprehend."

"It seems a cruel business," said I.

"Cruel!"

"Aye—to awake a heart and pass your way a-whistling."

"Now, Loskiel," he began, plainly vexed, "I am not cruel by nature, and you know it well enough. Men kiss and go their way——"

"But women linger still."

"Not those I've known."

"Yet, here is one——"

"A silly fancy that will pass with her. Lord! Do you think a gentleman accountable to every pretty chit of a girl he notices on his way through life?"

"Some dare believe so."

He stared at me, then laughed.

"You are different to other men, of course," he said gaily. "We all understand that. So let it go——"

"One moment, Boyd. There is a matter I must speak of—because friendship and loyalty to a childhood friend both warrant it. Can you tell me why Lana Helmer is unhappy?"

A dark red flush surged up to the roots of his hair, and the muscles in his jaw tightened. He remained a moment mute and motionless, staring at me. But if my question, for the first moment, had enraged him, that quickly died out; and into his eyes there came a haggard look such as I had never seen there.

He said slowly:

"Were you not the man you are, Loskiel, I had answered in a manner you might scarcely relish. Now, I answer you that if Lana is unhappy I am more so. And that our unhappiness is totally unnecessary—if she would but listen to what I say to her."

"And what is it that you say to her?" I inquired as coolly as though his answer might not very easily be a slap with his fringed sleeve across my face.

"I have asked her to marry me," he said. "Do you understand why I tell you this?"

I shook my head.

"To avoid killing you at twenty paces across the river.... I had rather tell you than do that."

"So that you have told me," said I, "the reason for your telling matters nothing. And my business with you ends with your answer.... Only—she is my friend, Boyd—a playmate of pleasant days. And if you can efface that wretchedness from her face—brighten the quenched sparkle of her eyes, paint her cheeks with rose again—do it, in God's name, and make of me a friend for life."

"Shall I tell you what has gone amiss—from the very first there at Otsego?"

"No—that concerns not me——"

"Yes, I shall tell you! It's that she knew about—the wench here—Dolly Glenn."

"Is that why she refuses you and elects to remain unhappy?" I said incredulously.

"Yes—I can say no more.... You are right, Loskiel, and such men as I are wrong—utterly and wretchedly wrong. Sooner or later comes the bolt of lightning. Hell! To think that wench should hurl it!"

"But what bolt had she to hurl?" said I, astonished.

He reddened, bit his lip savagely, made as though to speak, then, with a violent gesture, turned away.

A few moments later a cannon shot sounded. It was the signal for striking tents and packing up; and in every regiment hurry and confusion reigned and the whole camp swarmed with busy soldiery.

But toward evening orders came to unpack and pitch tents again; and whether it had been an exercise to test the quickness of our army for marching, or whether some accident postponed the advance, I do not know.

All that evening, being on duty with my Indians to watch the cattle-guard, I did not see Lois.

The next day I was ordered to take the Indians a mile or two toward Chemung and lie there till relieved; so we went very early and remained near the creek on observation, seeing nothing, until evening, when the relief came with Hanierri and three Stockbridges. These gave us an account that another soldier had been shot in camp by the accidental discharge of a musket, and that the Light Troops had marched out of their old encampment and had pitched tents one hundred rods in advance.

Also, they informed us that the flying hospital and stores had been removed to the fort, and that Colonel Shreve had taken over the command of that place.

By reason of the darkness, we were late in getting into camp, so again that day I saw nothing of Lois.

On Wednesday it rained heavily about eleven o'clock, and the troops made no movement. Some Oneidas came in and went to headquarters. My Indians did not seem to know them.

I was on duty all day at headquarters, translating into Iroquois for the General a speech which he meant to deliver to the Tuscaroras on his return through Easton. The rain ceased late in the afternoon. Later, an express came through from Fort Pitt; and before evening orders had gone out that the entire army was to march at eight o'clock in the morning.

Morning came with a booming of cannon. We did not stir.

Toward eleven, however, the army began to march out as though departing in earnest; but as Major Parr remained with the Rifles, I knew something had gone amiss.

Yet, the other regiments, including my own, marched away gaily enough, with music sounding and colours displayed; and the garrison, boatmen, artillerymen, and all the civil servants and women and children waved them adieu from the parapets of the fort.

But high water at Tioga ford, a mile or two above, soon checked them, and there they remained that night. As I was again on duty with Hanierri and the Dominie, I saw not Lois that day.

Friday was fair and sunny, and the ground dried out. And all the morning I was with Dominie Kirkland and Hanierri, translating, transcribing, and writing out the various speeches and addresses left for me by General Sullivan.

Runners came in toward noon with news that our main forces had encamped at the pass before Chemung, and were there awaiting us.

Murphy, the rifleman, came saying that our detail was packing up at the fort, that Major Parr had sent word for Lieutenant Boyd to strike tents and pull foot, and that the boats were now making ready to drop down the river with the non-combatants.

My pack, and those of my Indians, had been prepared for days, and there was little for me to do to make ready. Some batt-men carried my military chest to the fort, where it was bestowed with the officers' baggage until we returned.

Then I hastened away to the fort and discovered our twenty riflemen paraded there, and Boyd inspecting them and their packs. His face seemed very haggard under its dark coat of sunburn, but he returned my salute with a smile, and presently came over to where I stood, saying coolly enough:

"I have made my adieux to the ladies. They are at the landing place expecting you. Best not linger. We should reach Chemung by dusk."

"My Indians are ready," said I.

"Very well," he said absently, and returned to his men, continuing his careful inspection.

As I passed the log bridge, I saw Dolly Glenn standing there with a frightened look on her face, but she paid no heed to me, and I went on still haunted by the girl's expression.

A throng of people—civilians and soldiers—were at the landing. The redoubtable Mrs. Sabin was bustling about a batteau, terrorizing its crew and bullying the servants, who were stowing away her property. Looking about me, I finally discovered Lois and Lana standing on the shore a little way down stream, and hastened to them.

Lana was as white as a ghost, but to my surprise Lois seemed cheerful and in gayest spirits, and laughed when I saluted her hand. And it relieved me greatly to find her so animated and full of confidence that all would be well with us, and the parting but a brief one.

"I know in my heart it will be brief," she said smilingly, and permitting both her hands to remain in mine. "Soon, very soon, we shall be again together, Euan, and this interrupted fairy tale, so prettily begun by you and me, shall be once more resumed."

"To no fairy finish," I said, "but in sober reality."

She looked at Lana, laughing:

"What a lad is this, dear! How can a fairy tale be ever real? Yet, he is a magician like Okwencha, this tall young Ensign of mine, and I make no doubt that his wizardry can change fancy to fact in the twinkling of an eye. Indeed, I think I, too, am something of a witch. Shall I make magic for you, Euan? What most of anything on earth would you care to see tonight?"

"You, Lois."

"Hai-e! That is easy. I will some night send to you my spirit, and it shall be so like me and so vivid nay, so warm and breathing—that you shall think to even touch it.... Shall I do this with a spell?"

"I only have to close my eyes and see you. Make it that I can also touch you."

"It shall be done."

We both were smiling, and I for one was forcing my gay spirits, for now that the moment had arrived, I knew that chance might well make of our gay adieux an endless separation.

Lana had wandered a little way apart; I glanced at Lois, then turned and joined her. She laid her hand on my arm, as though her knees could scarcely prop her, and turned to me a deathly face.

"Euan," she breathed, "I have said adieu to him. Somehow, I know that he and I shall never meet again.... Tell him I pray for him—for his soul.... And mine.... And that before he goes he shall do the thing I bid him do.... And if he will not—tell him I ask God's mercy on him.... Tell him that, Euan."

"Yes," I said, awed.

She stood resting her arm on mine to support her, closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at me. And in her eyes I saw her heart was breaking as she stood there.

"Lana! Lanette! Little comrade! What is this dreadful thing that crushes you? Could you not tell me?" I whispered.

"Ask him, Euan."

"Lana, why will you not marry him, if you love him so?"

She shuddered and closed her eyes.

Neither of us spoke again. Lois, watching us, came slowly toward us, and linked her arm in Lana's.

"Our batteau is waiting," she said quietly.

I continued to preserve my spirits as we walked together down to the shore where Mrs. Sabin stood glaring at me, then turned her broad back and waddled across the planks.

Lana followed; Lois clung a second to my hands, smiling still; then I released her and she sprang lightly aboard.

And now batteau after batteau swung out into the stream, and all in line dropped slowly down the river, pole and paddle flashing, kerchiefs fluttering.

For a long way I could see the boat that carried Lois gliding in the channel close along shore, and the escort following along the bank above, with the sunshine glancing on their slanting rifles. Then a bend in the river hid them; and I turned away and walked slowly toward the fort.

By the gate my Indians were waiting.